


Jealousy

by silversky



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Cats, Fluff, Human Castiel, Jealous Dean, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversky/pseuds/silversky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is not jealous of a cat named Mr. Whiskers. That would be pathetic. Pathetic and sad and not at all true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

This week has sucked. Like, on the list of all Dean’s weeks, this would rank in the top 10 worst. The only reason it’s not higher is his history of death (not Death, that dude’s been pretty chill lately) following him around like an ex that won’t get the hint…or Becky. Dean shivers, thanking whatever’s acting as God nowadays that it wasn’t him she was obsessed with. That would have been—

“Dean!”

Fingers snap in Dean’s face and he blinks up at Sam, who’s sending him a minor bitchface. Not enough bitch to warrant a quick escape to his room, but enough to put Dean on edge. “What?”

Sam raises an eyebrow, folding his gargantuan limbs down onto the stool next to Dean’s. “You’ve been glaring at the living room for the past 10 minutes. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t had an aneurysm.”

“I haven’t been  _glaring.”_ Dean’s totally been glaring. Why? Because, as previously stated, this week has sucked. Sucked like the vacuum Cas ordered one night because an infomercial promised it could ‘clean carpets 10 times faster!’, and had ended up mangling Dean’s iPod in it’s hose. Sucked like—

“Seriously dude, what the hell is up with you?” Dean was back, and the bitchface had upgraded to ‘pretend you’re researching a hunt and can’t talk’ levels. Time to cut his losses.

“I don’t like that cat.” There, it was out. Maybe now Sam would leave him to his brooding in peace.

“The cat?” No such luck. “Cas really likes the thing, and you already told him he could keep it. What’s the problem?”

“The name, for one thing,” Dean grumbles. Mr. Whiskers. _Mr. Whiskers._ Literally the most cliche, horrible name for a cat in existence, and he has to hear it every day. It’s an abomination to the tradition of pet naming, that’s what it is.

Even Sam winces at that. “Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to let Cas name him. But,” he brightens, like the optimistic monster his brother becomes when imminent doom isn’t hanging over them, “at least it’s hypoallergenic! Seriously, how likely is it that a random stray would be just the right type to get past your allergies?”

“Right.” Dean turns from Sam’s ‘shiny with hope’ face to start glaring at the living room again. “Cause the fact I’m not sneezing my brains out means I should be  _happy_ that animal has the run of this place.”

Sam sighs, and Dean does a mental facepalm. Make Sam interested in his problems again, real smart move Dean. It’s a wonder he didn’t finish high school with this level of intelligence.

“You’re being a dick,” Sam states. “Just cause you have some weird hang-up over Mr…over the cat doesn’t mean you have to take it out on the people who do like him. How do you think Cas feels about his best friend hating his cat?”

In a remarkable feat of composure, if Dean does say so himself, being called Cas’ best friend does not make Dean blush. Or stutter. Still, Sam’s accusation can’t stand. “I’ll have you know,” Dean tetchily points out to his brother, “Cas is under the impression I love that cat. He’s passed out on the couch with it right now, and do you see me complaining? No, because I’m not a time monopolizer. I’m fine. I’m awesome.”

Instead of looking reassured, Sam’s expression turns confused as Dean speaks, then morphs into something only describable as unholy glee. Dean’s rant peters out, uneasiness overtaking his righteous indignation.

“Wait a minute.” Sam pauses, the enormous grin spreading across his features forcing him to start over. “Are you  _jealous?”_

“Am I…what?” Dean has no idea what Sam’s talking about. None at all.

“Are you jealous,” Sam’s almost giggling to himself now, “of  _Cas’ cat_?”

That’s ridiculous. Dean is not jealous of a cat named Mr. Whiskers. That would be pathetic. Pathetic and sad and not at all true.

“No!” Dean stands. This conversation is long overdue to be finished. “Shut up.”

“You are!” Sam’s evolved to the final stage of younger brother teasing, a smug amusement that’s secure in the knowledge of years of blackmail material. “Cas is spending all his time with Mr. Whiskers and you feel left out!”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘crush on the local vet’!” Dean doesn’t care that it’s a low blow—he needs Sam to stop.

Sam blushes, but is undeterred. Damn his brother’s inability to let anything go. “Don’t change the subject, Dean. You know,” the grin is back, “if you want to cuddle with Cas on the couch, you could just ask him.”

Dean’s already leaving the room, but he can still hear Sam’s laughter, followed by “maybe he’ll even scratch you behind the ears!” His brother’s a dick.

Besides, even if he were jealous, he wouldn’t put that on his friend. Pausing by the couch, Dean looks down at Cas, hair messy, face relaxed, his soft breathing lifting the brown and white cat on his chest up and down. Cas has been human, fully, irreversibly human, for less than two months. He still forgets to shave, is still fascinated by human television and ‘how wonderful the human imagination is, Dean.’ He cried the entire afternoon the day he finished ‘Bridge to Terabithia’.

That, more than anything, convinced Dean he’s not ready for something as heavy as whatever the hell his fucked up ‘best friend’ wants. Jealousy over some stupid cat or not, Dean wants to do this right. He’s waited for 7 years. He can wait a bit longer.

Just...maybe not  _too_ much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fluffy, Tumblr inspired fic. It seems I'm a one trick pony folks. If you wanna send me prompts, since that's apparently the only way I finish fics, come say hi to me at http://theoncomingcroat.tumblr.com. I will figure out how to insert links on this website one day, I swear to god.


End file.
